


Blood Pact

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood Pacts, Gen, implied Caranthir/Haleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: Carnistir has never heard of a blood pact. He's suspicious.





	Blood Pact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MythopoeticReality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythopoeticReality/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "Hrmmm…how about a couple of characters making a blood pact? My usual go to is Aredhel and Celegorm, but you can go with whoever you like. Mablung and Beleg could be cool for this too."

Carnistir frowned. Surely he had misheard. He looked sharply at the elf translating.

This group of men were new come to Thargelion, and their language was not that of the Haladin or the other groups of Men that had come before them. It was like to the tongue of Bor, but not the same.

The slight lift of Canwion’s shoulders, too subtle for mortal eyes to follow but obvious to his lord, conveyed that he had rendered what he had heard into Quenya as best he could. As one of the scouts who traveled through the mountains regularly, he knew more of mannish languages than any other in the fortress.

“Blood pact?” Carnistir asked, repeating the unfamiliar words in the Mannish tongue. “Please explain, if you would be so kind. This is a thing we do not know.”

The mannish chieftain’s eyes widened, though Carnistir could not see how anyone could possibly take insult from what he had said.

“You said you had encountered our kind before, Lord Elf,” he said, speaking mostly to Carnistir, but half-addressing Canwion as if he did not trust that he was being properly understood. “It is an ancient custom of the people.”

Carnistir considered the statement.

“Of which people?” he asked.

Haleth’s people had not had this strange custom – indeed, it was their norm to avoid bloodshed and unnecessary injury whenever possible, to lessen the risk of sickness setting in. Cuts that would be trivial to an elf could kill an unlucky mortal. And if the people of Hador or Bëor had anything like what this man Ulfang spoke of, Ingo would most certainly have written about it. (If he could waste multiple pages on the habits of adornment practiced by the children of Men, he would probably have penned a scholarly treatise on such an unheard-of practice.)

“ _The_ people!” Ulfang exclaimed, sweeping an arm in a grand gesture that presumably was meant to indicate all Men. “If you have dealt with our kind before and not entered into such a bond, you are lucky indeed if they honored you, much less answered your call when you gathered your karls.”

He paused, and then added, almost patronizingly, “You need not _drink_ the blood, Lord Elf, if you are afraid. You cut your hand, I cut mine, and we grasp the cut hand of the other.”

Carnistir held back a snort. The attempt to force him into the bizarre ritual was sadly transparent, and fell well short of the mark. He could see his steward rolling his eyes behind the Man’s back. Most elves in his stronghold have seen things this mortal boy can only pray never befall him. It takes more than a strange mannish custom to frighten any of them.

Distrust, however…

“I will certainly not be drinking blood, Lord Ulfang,” Carnistir replied firmly, taking care to keep his voice polite. “It would be against the customs of _my_ people. And I am not satisfied that even this lesser form you speak of would be acceptable to us. I will have to do without your custom and rely instead on the ways familiar to elves. For us, the matter is simple: either your word to me is good, or it is not.”

Carnistir did not miss the angry glint in Ulfang’s eye, but he was not about to back down. Something about this supposed mannish custom felt wrong. Even without running the idea past his oldest brother, it came too close to the practices of Angband for comfort.

“My men will not be pleased, serving a lord that holds our ways in such contempt,” Ulfang warned. “If you want their respect, you will do this. You do not know much of Men if you brush aside our customs so lightly.”

Ulfang had no way to know how well Carnistir had known Haleth, and he did not even need to think about what _her_ reaction would have been to such nonsense. She would have scorned it as a rumor spread to stain the Edain. Particularly the blood drinking part. He also can’t imagine her agreeing to it, or allowing any of her people to enter into one. And that’s more than enough for him.

“It is not their respect I want,” Carnistir said, rising from his seat. “It is their swords to defend lands that are now empty, and their work to make that land productive again. If that cannot be done without this blood ritual, then there is no point to further discussion. You are not the first Men to come this way, and it may yet prove that you will not be the last. If my terms are not to your liking, by all means, move on – you are free to return to the lands you left, or to press on westward as you choose.”

He paused.

“If you desire to continue west, I would caution you that you will find few if any who will make this blood pact you speak of. I know my kin will see the matter no differently than I do, and those Men that have come before you had no such custom. Nor do I think they would take it up.”

The Haladin certainly wouldn’t. And Carnistir would dearly love to see the man raise the idea of a blood pact with Thingol High-hand or any of his lackeys.

Ulfang was not happy, but Carnistir could tell the idea that he should return east with nothing to show for his trouble did not sit well with him either. Particularly not when he must know that Bor and his people had been welcomed by Maedhros and profited greatly from their new alliance.

“Very well, Lord Elf,” Ulfang replied reluctantly. “The lands you spoke of earlier are good, and my people are weary of this constant wandering. I will somehow persuade them that this is to our advantage. Perhaps, given time, you will change your mind.”

Carnistir knew with certainty that he would not, but it was not helpful to say so. Nor did he feel like adding that making a blood pact with one already bound by Oath and Doom would likely not end well for the wretched man who did.


End file.
